SHADOW OVER THE FENS a gripping crime thriller full of suspense (10 page)

‘You make it sound as if I should be selling
War Cry,
’ said Joseph huffily.

‘If the cap fits, mate!’ laughed Cat. ‘You leave this one to me. I have a rare talent for disguise when undercover.’

‘I know, I’ve seen you in action, remember?’ Joseph closed the report he’d been reading.

‘So, what am I trying to find out, while I’m stamping on the cockroaches?’

‘If anyone can give us an ID on a man with the tag, Snaz.’

‘You do know they won’t have CCTV, and their security consists of a eighteen stone, tattooed woman who looks harder than Desperate Dan?’

‘You mean Gloria,’ Nikki smiled. ‘Yeah, start with her. As long as she wasn’t already juiced up by the time Chris and his new friend got there, she would have clocked them alright. Get round there as soon as they open, okay?’

‘Can’t wait.’

‘Well, if that’s the case, why don’t you rope in Yvonne and Niall and go around
all
the local pool halls and pubs to try to find someone who can finger this mystery man that Chris had been spending time with. We need a face, Cat.’

‘No problem, ma’am.’ Cat gathered up her jacket and headed for the door. ‘Time for a swift change of clothes, and then show us committed.’

Nikki glanced up at the clock. Professor Wilkinson should be with them shortly with the preliminary reports on Martin’s death, and it was a report that was worrying the life out of her. Strangely, even the execution of Chris Forbes couldn’t rid her of the constant nagging anxiety about her old neighbour and his horrible death.

‘More coffee, ma’am?’ asked Joseph.

‘Make that three. Rory has his black, no sugar.’

A few moments later Rory Wilkinson stuck his head round the door, and waved a large white paper bag. ‘I come bearing gifts! And I don’t mean gruesome goodies from the path lab either.’

No matter how grim her thoughts had been, this unorthodox forensic genius always managed to bring a smile to her face. ‘Then welcome, Professor. Grab a seat. Joseph is already getting refreshments.’

‘Which should go nicely with these.’ He tore open the bag and revealed three enormous chocolate éclairs. ‘Called in at the
boulangerie
en route.
C’est manifique, n’est ce pas?
’

‘Oh Lord! I should say so! If Joseph doesn’t get a move on he’ll be unlucky.’

As if on cue, Joseph shouldered the door open and entered carrying three large mugs of coffee. ‘Haven’t missed anything, have I?’

‘Nearly, but not quite,’ said Nikki, looking longingly at the thick chocolate covering the cream-filled choux pastry. ‘Right, so are these to help sweeten the mood, knowing about your other gift, the one in the giant brown manila folder?’

‘Ah, so astute! Every inch the detective, ma’am.’ He grinned. ‘But no, actually I missed breakfast and I’m starving.’ His face became a little more serious. ‘Although I have to say, the tidings that I bring are by no means straightforward.’

‘As if I thought they would be,’ sighed Nikki, taking a bite out of her éclair. ‘So, whenever you are ready?’

The pathologist put down his coffee mug, dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a white handkerchief, and sat back. ‘Well, Mr Durham died as the result of his fall from the church tower, this we know. His injuries were a little different to those normally expected from a fall from such a great height, because of the fact that he hit the wall and not a flat hard surface. He shattered his spinal column at the areas of the second, third and fourth lumbar vertebrae, severing the spinal cord and shearing through the arteries.’ Rory pointed to the folder. ‘There’s much more, of course. It’s all in there. Crushed ribs, massive head injury and inter-cranial bleeds, caused as his head was swung down against the wall when his back broke. Liver damaged, et al., but this is to be expected, wholly understandable, and it’s none of this that worries me.’

Nikki was feeling a mild nausea sweep over her. This was an old friend that Rory was describing, and it didn’t make pleasant listening. She tried not to think of broken, splintered bones and quickly said, ‘It’s the toxicology report, isn’t it?’

Rory nibbled delicately on his éclair and nodded, ‘Mm, exactly.’ He removed a thick batch of papers from his file, skimmed through them, then laid them on the desk and looked up. ‘I’ll try to simplify this for you. And please don’t think that I’m insulting your intelligence, dear hearts, but forensic toxicology is complex, and it’s still one of the most difficult tasks to prove death by poisoning.’

‘He was poisoned?’ asked Joseph, almost choking on his coffee.

‘Oh no, well, not in the way that you mean, but, there again, one
could
say that . . .’

‘Rory?’ Nikki bit her lip. ‘Come to the point.’

‘Sorry. What I mean is this; Martin Durham killed himself by leaping from the tower. Fact. He did this because he was under the effect of a powerful hallucinogen. Fact. But did he purposefully take the drug himself, or was it administered to him by person or persons unknown? Unproven.’

‘Tell us about the drugs,’ said Joseph. ‘He had a real cache of them at his home.’

‘And thereby hangs another mystery,’ replied Rory. ‘But let’s take this step at a time, shall we? We took samples from his blood, urine, stomach contents, liver, what was left of it, and his vitreous humour. You see, you are not just looking for the toxins, you are looking for their effects, in the form of metabolites. So, using a combination of mass spectrometry and gas spectrometry we isolated and identified samples of all his prescription drugs, bar one.
Plus
another substance, the one that turned out to be doxepin hydrochloride.’

Nikki stared across the desk at Rory. ‘You just said, “bar one”. Why would he take all his meds and leave one out? Is it something that he didn’t need to take regularly?’

‘Oh no, it’s part of his daily regime.’

‘And the other one? The hallucinogen? What would that be taken for?’

‘It’s used, quite legitimately, as an anti-anxiety drug, an antidepressant. It’s similar to Amitriptyline. But, as with a lot of chemicals, it’s not the drug itself, it’s the quantity that is taken. And this was a dose large enough to trigger an acid trip in an elephant.’

‘But Martin never used recreational drugs. He didn’t smoke and he didn’t drink.’

‘Then that could have made its effect on him even more severe.’

Joseph placed his mug on the desk and stared at it. ‘There were no pharmaceutical company boxes or bottles in Martin’s home that were antidepressants, of that I am sure. And as his GP never mentioned them, how did he get hold of them, and why take it anyway? By accident?’

‘That’s possible, of course,’ said Rory. ‘But frankly, I doubt it. It’s the missing tablet that has me foxed.’ He pushed his glasses further up onto the bridge of his nose and peered at Nikki. ‘From what I understand, Martin Durham was a meticulous man, and very careful with his medication. You knew him, so am I right?’

‘Bear in mind I never knew he took medication, but otherwise, most certainly. His house was spotless. He cooked wholesome food and exercised regularly.’

‘I deduced that much from the state of his body and the contents of his stomach.’ He puffed out his cheeks and made a low, whistling sound. ‘So why miss one tablet? Anyone who takes pills regularly has a specific routine, and if those tablets are life sustaining, you are very particular indeed.’

‘Common sense would dictate that somehow he took the Sinepin accidentally, believing it to be his other tablet,’ said Joseph thoughtfully. ‘Do they look alike, Professor?’

‘Not at all. The antidepressant is a brightly coloured gelatine capsule, the colour varying as to the strength of the dose, and his own drug was a small yellow tablet. No way would he have confused them.’

‘Then he was deliberately given it, by someone else,’ muttered Nikki. ‘Maybe the man who ransacked his cottage?’

‘This is ludicrous!’ exclaimed Joseph. ‘We are talking about an ordinary man. Someone who lives in a small village, in a time-warp cottage, with a love for the marshes, and not a scrap of scandal to his name. Why on earth should he be targeted, maybe even killed, by some shady professional hitman? I just doesn’t make sense.’

‘We need to find out more about Martin’s past,’ said Nikki flatly. ‘How much do we really know about the people around us? Not much, I’m willing to wager.’

Rory nodded. ‘For what it’s worth, I really think that’s where you
should
start. If he were given that drug intentionally, then you
have
to find out who is behind it. This time just one man died, but he could have taken any one of those poor souls up on the viewing platform with him. And there were children there, weren’t there?’

Nikki nodded dumbly. She knew a bit about hallucinations. She’d seen enough junkies on bad trips. Kids whose senses were telling them lies, making them believe all manner of nightmares. A string of questions flooded into her mind. What on earth had Martin become involved in? What could be so awful that he should be sent to such a terrible death? Or was she just being paranoid? There were most likely other far more common-or-garden reasons for what happened, and maybe the break-in was just that, and the intruder really did just land her with a lucky punch. Maybe.

‘And then there is my other little mystery regarding his medication.’ Rory adjusted his glasses again. ‘I did a little ferreting of my own, because I was puzzled to see that most of his tablets were issued by Dr Latimer of Cloud Fen, and two others came in plain white boxes with the tablet name and dosage on the side, but no maker’s name. They most certainly did not come from any of the suppliers that I know.’

‘Internet?’ enquired Joseph. ‘Isn’t that where people self-medicate themselves these days?’

‘Ah-ha! Two minds! But no, dear Joseph. Sadly my mini-investigation has proved us wrong. I’ve no idea where these drugs come from.’

Nikki looked towards Joseph. ‘Time for you to take another trip to Dr Latimer’s surgery, I think.’

The pathologist smiled, ‘I have my doubts that she will know any more than we do, but I’d be interested to see her expression when you tell about this little conundrum. And I have to leave this with you now.’ Rory pushed the file across the desk to her. ‘Don’t read it after dark.’ He took another, thinner file from his bag. ‘Now we come to the unfortunate Mr Christopher Forbes. And this is much more straightforward. A deliberate and ruthless murder, carried out with minimum fuss and scarily skilfully executed.’

‘A professional?’ asked Nikki, before Joseph could speak.

‘Most definitely. Knew exactly the right amount of pressure to use, and the correct angle of the blade for a clean and fatal cut.’

‘A contract killer, then?’

Rory took a deep breath. ‘I’d say this man had more of a military background. Hitmen prefer guns. It’s impersonal. A gun distances the killer from the victim. You have to be very sure of yourself, and very cool, to use a knife. Not many people have the nerve to get
that
up close with their prey.’

Nikki looked at Joseph, but his face was set in stone. She knew he’d just had the confirmation he’d been waiting for.

‘And there was very little trace evidence on the body. Probably nothing, after we’ve eliminated the few odd hairs on his clothing. Frankly I’m not expecting much at all.’ Rory stretched. ‘The only thing that we have with a connection to the murderer is the rope that he used to tie the man, and sadly it’s pretty common stuff. The kind you can pick up in any marine chandlers or outdoor pursuit store.’

Nikki heard Joseph murmur the word ‘damn’ under his breath.

‘So apart from a positive gallery of photographs, that is all I have for you at present, and I need to get back. So, it’s over to you, my friends.’ Rory stood up. ‘And
do
let me know what you discover about that mysterious missing pill. It’s the sort of accursed thing that bugs your every waking moment, and then robs you of your sleep.’

‘Isn’t it just,’ said Nikki vehemently. ‘But I’ll get to the bottom of it, Professor. I promise you that.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you will, Inspector dearest, just don’t take too long. I shall be positively haggard with worry! And you’ve no idea just how much I value my beauty sleep!’

With a curt bow and a flourish of his hand, he was gone, and Nikki and Joseph were left in the silent office. Rory’s exit had taken with it every ounce of humour and life from the room.

Suddenly Joseph stood up. ‘I should go and see Dr Latimer.’

Nikki frowned at him. ‘In a moment, but don’t you have anything to say about Chris Forbes’ death?’

‘What’s to say, ma’am? He was killed by a military-trained operative. I knew that.’

‘We’ll find him, Joseph. Someone at the Paper Wall will give us an ID, then we can look for him in earnest.’

‘
I
can give you an ID, ma’am, but if he doesn’t want us to find him, we won’t find him. End of.’

‘This isn’t the jungle, Sergeant, it’s a market town in the Fens! You can’t sneeze here without half the town offering you a hankie.’ She looked at him long and hard. ‘And we still have no absolute proof that it is Billy Sweet. This could be some nasty scam. Have you considered that there may be someone out there who wants to get at you for putting their nearest and dearest in the Scrubs or somewhere equally as salubrious? An old case? Someone who has decided it’s payback time? It does happen, Joseph.’